American Supernatural Tales is the ultimate collection of weird and frightening American short fiction. As Stephen King will attest, the popularity of the occult in American literature has only grown since the days of Edgar Allan Poe. The book celebrates the richness of this tradition with chilling contributions from some of the nation's brightest literary lights, including Poe himself, H.P. Lovecraft, Shirley Jackson, Ray Bradbury, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and - of course - Stephen King. By turns phantasmagoric, spectral, and demonic, this is a frighteningly good collection of stories.

Giveaway Info:

Filmmaker and longtime horror literature fan Guillermo del Toro serves as the curator for the Penguin Horror series, a new collection of classic tales and poems by masters of the genre. Included is one of del Toro's favorites, American Supernatural Tales edited by S.T. Joshi. Featuring original cover art by Penguin Art Director Paul Buckley, this stunningly creepy deluxe hardcover will be a perfect addition to the shelves of horror, sci-fi, fantasy, and paranormal aficionados everywhere ...

AND YOU HAVE A CHANCE TO WIN A COPY

... thanks to the wonderful people of Penguin!

This giveaway is open internationally. You can enter the form below to enter for your chance to win a copy. This giveaway will remain open until 11/6 at 11:59 p.m. The winner will be randomly chosen and contacted on 11/7. The winner will have 48 hours to respond. If the winner does not respond within 48 hours, another winner will be chosen in their place.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Staring unflinchingly into the abyss of slavery, this spellbinding novel transforms history into a story as powerful as Exodus and as intimate as a lullaby. Sethe, its protagonist, was born a slave and escaped to Ohio, but eighteen years later she is still not free. She has too many memories of Sweet Home, the beautiful farm where so many hideous things happened. And Sethe's new home is haunted by the ghost of her baby, who died nameless and whose tombstone is engraved with a single word: Beloved. Filled with bitter poetry and suspense as taut as a rope, Beloved is a towering achievement.

It's thick and dense and sometimes unpleasant to wade through, but every sentence has the promise of a poem. The language is so rich and vibrant, and so full of emotion and hurt and mystery, that you need to take your time while you read this one, lest the words pass you by.

It is appropriate to read this during October, because there is a supernatural element to the story, in the form of the titular character, Beloved. The protagonist, Sethe, is haunted by the death of her young daughter, who was killed by Sethe's own hand in order to save her from a life of torture similar to the life she lived in this post-Civil War world. Only the word "Beloved" was etched on the child's grave. The house where Sethe lives with her daughter Denver, is possessed by a malevolent spirit that seems to suck the very life out of the inhabitants - until one day Paul D, a man from Sethe's past, banishes the spirit. Days later, a young woman shows up, named Beloved, and seems to have an unhealthy obsession for Sethe. Does her presence help or heal Sethe?

The book winds through past and present, describing the torture and inhumane conditions of slavery experienced by Sethe, Paul D, and other characters in the book. It tells of their escape to freedom and the dangers experienced along the way. But the story transitions past to present to past without warning and at times it is difficult to know what time period we are in.

This is an amazing book, written artfully and passionately by Toni Morrison. It's one I think any student of literature should put on their lifetime bucket list of must-reads.

As a side note, this completes my "Back to the Classics" challenge for the year (with the exception of the alternates).

For centuries an ancient evil has slept beneath the streets of New Harbor. This Halloween, it wakes up.

An action-packed debut horror novel from talented new writer Matthew Quinn Martin, NIGHTLIFE pits a feisty bartender and a mysterious loner against bloodthirsty terrors as alluring as they are deadly.

Nightclub bartender and serial heartbreaker Beth Becker might be a cynic. But when her best friend goes missing Halloween night, Beth knows it’s up to her to find out what happened.

Her quest will take her on an odyssey through the crumbling city of New Harbor, Connecticut. Along the way she meets a homeless prophet warning of something he calls the “Night Angel”…a bloodthirsty creature that has been feeding on the forgotten. And she will form an unlikely bond with a hunted stranger who knows all too well what is stalking the streets at night.

He reveals to her to the hideous truth about the nightmare creatures that have haunted mankind’s imagination for eons––creatures the world calls vampires. Together they are the only hope for New Harbor, but to defeat what lurks in the shadows they are going to have to conquer something far stronger than fear––their own desires.

Author Bio:

Matthew Quinn Martin was born in Allentown, Pennsylvania and raised in New Haven, Connecticut. However, it wasn’t until he moved to Manhattan that he realized he was a writer. These days, he lives on a small island off the North Atlantic coast of the United States where it gets quiet in the winter…perhaps too quiet.

Something evil is attacking the residents of New Harbor. A crazy old homeless man calls the evil a Night Angel. After a close encounter, Gil realizes that he's a prophet and his duty is to find The One that will destroy the Night Angel. Jack comes across Gil in a church. Gil realizes that Jack is The One and tells him so. Jack thinks Gil is crazy and leaves out of the church.

Beth grew up a tough kid. On her way to work one night, she gets into a fight causing her to be late for work ... again. Her boss is on her back and has hired a younger girl to train behind the bar, whom Beth thinks is her replacement. Then Beth's boyfriend, Ryan, comes into the bar pressuring her to move in with him when she's not ready. That same night, unbelievably, Beth's friend Zoe goes missing. As Beth's out looking posting fliers looking for Zoe, she comes across Gil.

Beth and Jack form a team to fight the Night Angels, or vampires. There's a lot that Jack knows from experience and that Beth needs to learn. The story of Beth and Jack's vampiric extermination tactics is entertaining. There is action consistently throughout this well-written novel. Even though this is yet another vampire-based novel, it is told in a new way that keeps it interesting.

*An ecopy of this book was provided by the publisher for the purposes of this tour and in exchange for an honest review.

Friday, October 25, 2013

Born and raised on Long Island, Michael Phillips Cash has always had a fascination with horror writing and found footage films. He wanted to incorporate both with his debut novel, Brood X. Earning a degree in English and an MBA, he has worked various jobs before settling into being a full-time author. He currently resides on Long Island with his wife and children. Stillwell: A Haunting on Long Island is his second novel.

Paul Russo's wife just died. While trying to get his family's life back in order, Paul is being tormented by a demon who is holding his wife's spirit hostage on the other side. His fate is intertwined with an old haunted mansion on the north shore of Long Island called Stillwell Manor. Paul must find clues dating back hundreds of years to set his wife's soul free.

The 31 Days of Halloween event is nearing its end. This will be the final Book Blogger Hop: Halloween Edition for this month, hosted by Billy from Ramblings of a Coffee Addicted Writer.

This week's question:

What is your favorite horror novel and why?

Mandy's Response:

I know I keep bringing this novel up, but it's only because it's my favorite: It by Stephen King. This is the perfect horror novel. The scary character is a clown, one of the biggest childhood fears (and the fear of many adults). What I really loved about this novel, aside from Pennywise the clown, was the bond that formed between the seven friends. Their dynamics were perfectly portrayed. I was, and maybe still am slightly, jealous of their closeness and wished I could have had friends like them when I was younger. Each one had a strength that the others didn't. The emotional roller coaster the reader goes through while reading It is exceptional. I love It.

Kathy's Response:

I'm going to say Christine by Stephen King because it was the first horror novel I read, and the first Stephen King as well. He is the master!

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

"The Christmas Visitors”: For spirited Martha Coblentz and her twin Mary, the snow has delivered the perfect holiday and birthday present to their door—handsome brothers Nate and Bram Kanagy. But when unforeseen trouble interrupts their season’s good cheer, it will take unexpected intervention—and sudden understanding—to give all four the blessing of a lifetime.

“Kissing the Bishop”: As the New Year’s first snow settles, Nazareth Hooley and her sister Jerusalem are given a heaven-sent chance to help newly widowed Tom Hostetler tend his home. But when her hope that she and Tom can build on the caring between them seems a dream forever out of reach, Nazareth discovers that faith and love can make any miracle possible.

About the Author:

I've called Missouri home for most of my life, and most folks don't realize that several Old Order Amish and Mennonite communities make their home here, as well. The rolling pastureland, woods, and small towns along county highways make a wonderful setting for Plain populations - and for stories about them, too! While Jamesport, Missouri is the largest Old Order Amish settlement west of the Mississippi River, other communities have also found the affordable farm land ideal for raising crops, livestock, and running the small family-owned businesses that support their families.

Like my heroine, Miriam Lantz, of my Seasons of the Heart series, I love to feed people - to share my hearth and home. I bake bread and goodies and I love to try new recipes. I put up jars and jars of green beans, tomatoes, beets and other veggies every summer. All my adult life, I've been a deacon, a dedicated church musician and choir member, and we hosted a potluck group in our home for more than twenty years.

Like Abby Lambright, heroine of my Home at Cedar Creek series, I consider it a personal mission to be a listener and a peacemaker - to heal broken hearts and wounded souls. Faith and family, farming and frugality matter to me: like Abby, I sew and enjoy fabric arts - I made my wedding dress and the one Mom wore, too, when I married into an Iowa farm and family more than thirty-five years ago! When I'm not writing, I crochet and sew, and I love to travel.

I recently moved to Minnesota when my husband got a wonderful new job, so now he and I and our border collie, Ramona, are exploring our new state and making new friends.

"Easy, Clyde. Back up, fella." Nate Kanagy stood aside as his Clydesdale came backwards out of the horse trailer, sensing Clyde was every bit as excited as he was on this fine December twenty-third. The horse whickered and shook his massive head, then waited patiently beside his brother's bay gelding while Bram shut the trailer gates. Nate stepped up to pay the driver who had brought them here from Willow Ridge this morning. "Thanks again, Gregg. And a merry Christmas to you."

"Merry Christmas to you boys and your family, too," Gregg replied as he started his van. "Enjoy your new sleigh and courting buggy!"

"Jah, we intend to!" Nate's brother, Bram, piped up from behind them. "If you can't have fun drivin' a new rig, what's the point of gettin' one?"

The two of them waved as Gregg headed back onto the county blacktop, hauling their empty trailer behind him. Then Nate gazed around the little town of Cedar Creek, Missouri. From where they stood in the parking lot of Graber's Custom Carriages, the countryside rolled gently beneath a fresh blanket of snow, dotted with tall white homes, silos, and barns. Deep green cedar trees followed the creek at the bottom of the hill, where cardinals called to each other. Across the snow-packed blacktop, Treva's Greenhouse sported a sign that said CLOSED FOR CHRISTMAS, but beside it the Cedar Creek Mercantile bustled with buggies and cars alike. "We'll get our fill of Aunt Beulah Mae's homemade goodies tonight -"

"Along with a hefty helping of her nosy questions and Uncle Abe's looooong stories," Bram added.

"- but a special occasion like this calls for some serious junk food."

"Jah, let's hit the merc." Bram hitched their two horses to the railing on the side of the carriage shop. "No tellin' what else we might find there. Looks to be a place that stocks everything under the sun, including stuff you never knew you needed."

To Nate, Cedar Creek seemed a lot like most Plain communities, in that the businesses were scattered along the roadside, on the farms where their owners lived. Back home in Willow Ridge they didn't have a carriage maker, so this trip was indeed a treat: their parents had given them their choice of new vehicles with the understanding that he and his younger brother wouldn't go running the roads in cars like a lot of Amish fellows did during their rumspringa years. At eighteen, Bram had chosen a buggy so he'd be ready for that day when a special girl tempted him to court and marry her.

Nate, however, had a hankering for a sleigh. Nothing else felt so grand on a winter's day as skimming across the snow-covered hills - and what could be more glorious than such a ride on a moonlit night? After they ate their snack, he couldn't wait to hitch Clyde to his new rig and take off. He'd been engaged to a special girl last Christmas, only to learn she'd been seeing other fellows, so at twenty, Nate wasn't out to impress anybody. These days, he was pleasing himself.

When they entered the mercantile, he felt right at home. The scent of bulk grass seed, stored in wooden bins along the wall, filled the warm air and a wide wooden staircase led to an open second level where work boots and clothing were sold. A banner on the railing said ABBY'S STITCH IN TIME, and a young woman - Abby, most likely - smiled down at him from her treadle sewing machine. Mesh bags of oranges and locally grown apples and potatoes were displayed by the check-out counter. Nate exchanged greetings with the gray-bearded fellow who was ringing up an order and then followed Bram toward the aisles of bulk snacks that had been bagged and labeled here in the store.

But Nate wasn't listening. Down the aisle a ways, where they sold livestock supplies, a girl was hefting a mineral block into her pull cart. Her auburn hair glimmered beneath her white kapp, and as she straightened to her full height, she caught his gaze. Held it for a few moments. Then she leaned down again.

It seemed only polite to see if she needed help.

As Nate headed her way, he wasn't surprised to hear the tattoo of Bram's boots on the plank floor behind him. "How about if I get that for you?" he asked as the redhead wrapped her arms around a fifty-pound sack of horse feed.

"Jah, how many of those do you need?" Bram chimed in. "No sense in strainin' yourself when we toss this stuff around all the time."

Nate had always heard that blue eyes could twinkle, but now he was seeing it for himself. The young woman looked from him to his brother as though she hid a secret behind her smile. "Not from around here, are you?"

He blinked. Had he sprouted a second head? Did he sound so very different from the Amish fellows here in Cedar Creek? Or was it Bram's lovestruck grin that made her say that? "Just got here from Willow Ridge, truth be told," Nate replied. "I'm fetching the sleigh James Graber's built for me -"

"And he's got a courtin' buggy with my name on it," his younger brother added.

"Well, you couldn't ask for a better rig, then," she remarked. "James has even built special carriages for Disney World and the likes of Miss America, you see."

Nate didn't know a thing about Miss America, but she surely couldn't hold a candle to this girl. Her ivory skin glowed, with just a few freckles on the bridge of her nose - tiny ones, that he had to lean closer to see. And then there was the way her eyes widened as she gazed back at him. He caught himself and grabbed the bag of feed she'd been lifting. "So how many of these bags do you need?"

"Four, please. And what'd you say your name was?"

Bram laughed as he, too, hefted a sack of the oats mixture. "Last name's Kanagy. I'm Bram - the cute one," he teased, "and Mr. Shy here is my brother Nate. He got burnt by a girl he was engaged to, so now he mostly keeps to his horses."

Nate closed his eyes against a wave of irritation as he placed a third sack of the rations in her wooden cart. "If you believe everything my kid brother says, well - but you look to be way ahead of him. And your name would be -?"

The redhead looked him over yet again. "Martha. Coblentz." She pointed to the shelf where the mineral blocks were. "A couple more of those and I've got to get on home. Denki ever so much for your help, fellas. Have a gut time with your new rigs."

It was on the tip of his tongue to invite her for a sleigh ride, yet Nate hesitated. After all, they were only spending the night with their aunt and uncle before returning to Willow Ridge tomorrow, in time to celebrate Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with their family. As though she suddenly needed to be someplace else, Martha strode down the aisle toward the check-out counter, pulling her sturdy wagon behind her.

"Well, you blew that one," Bram muttered.

"And you, little brother, have a mouth bigger than your brain," Nate replied under his breath. "We'll have to work on that."

* * * * * * *

"Jah, Mary?" Martha murmured into her cell phone. She looked behind her as she walked down the road, with the wind whipping at her black coat and bonnet. "You've got to come see these two fellas who're heading over to James's carriage shop! I just now met them in the mercantile and, well - you can gawk at both of them all you want, but I've already decided to go for Nate."

"Puh! What makes you think you get first pick?" her twin retorted.

"First come, first served. Be there or be square," Martha quipped. She loved the way her breath came out in a frosty vapor on this brisk December morning. Truth be told, she was enjoying this day a lot more now that she'd met the two Kanagy boys in the mercantile. "Better get a move on, though, or you might miss them. They're here to fetch a sleigh and a courting buggy James built for them, and they might head right on home afterward - unless we give them a gut reason to hang around, you know."

"Well, I can't get there any too fast if I'm on the phone with you now, can I?" Click.

Martha tucked her cell into her coat pocket and continued down the snow-covered road as fast as her heavy pull cart would allow. What with her dat and her older brother Owen out working on a house today, the barn chores fell to her, as they often did. It was just as well, because she preferred working outdoors while Mary was happier helping their mamm get ready for today's meals as well as Christmas dinner. Martha was perfectly capable of placing those heavy sacks of feeds in their covered bins and then setting out the new mineral blocks for the horses, but wasn't it a fine thing that two gut-looking fellows had come to help her in the mercantile? The boys around Cedar Creek seemed to think she was part of the landscape ... always there, so mostly invisible. Apparently not worth a second look.

By the time Martha was within sight of the house, here came Mary up the road. Oh, but she had a glint of mischief in her eyes, too! "So what's in that sack, Sister?"

Mary laughed. "That's my beeswax, ain't so?"

"Now don't go thinking you can have those fellas all to yourself," Martha protested, playfully blocking her sister's path. "I was nice enough to tell you about them -"

"And Mamma's already got her suspicions about me taking out of the house so sudden-like, too. This better be worth my time, Sister!" Mary declared. "After all, it was your dinner - your favorite oatmeal bread and goodies I was baking when you called."

"Puh! If you don't think the walk's worth your while, then I'll just have some fun with those fellas myself. Not a problem!"

"We'll see about that, won't we?"

Martha hurried on down the snowy lane to the barn with her cart, which was harder to pull on the clumpy gravel. No doubt her sister would know a fine opportunity when she saw one, so it was best to put these supplies away and feed the animals in short order. The Kanagy boys didn't know it yet, but as thanks for helping her, they were about to receive a Christmas gift they hadn't counted on.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

The epic battle between man and monster reaches its greatest pitch in the famous story of Frankenstein. In trying to create life, the young student Victor Frankenstein unleashes forces beyond his control, setting into motion a long and tragic chain of events that brings Victor himself to the very brink. How he tries to destroy his creation, as it destroys everything Victor loves, is a powerful story of love, friendship ... and horror.

Giveaway Info:

Filmmaker and longtime horror literature fan Guillermo del Toro serves as the curator for the Penguin Horror series, a new collection of classic tales and poems by masters of the genre. Included is one of del Toro's favorites, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Featuring original cover art by Penguin Art Director Paul Buckley, this stunningly creepy deluxe hardcover will be a perfect addition to the shelves of horror, sci-fi, fantasy, and paranormal aficionados everywhere ...

AND YOU HAVE A CHANCE TO WIN A COPY

... thanks to the wonderful people of Penguin!

This giveaway is open internationally. You can enter the form below to enter for your chance to win a copy. This giveaway will remain open until 10/29 at 11:59 p.m. The winner will be randomly chosen and contacted on 10/30. The winner will have 48 hours to respond. If the winner does not respond within 48 hours, another winner will be chosen in their place.

The next Penguin Horror Classics giveaway will take place on 10/30. Good luck!!!

Braineater Jones wakes up face down in a swimming pool with no memory of his former life, how he died, or why he's now a zombie. With a smart-aleck severed head as a partner, Jones descends into the undead ghetto to solve his own murder.

But Jones' investigation is complicated by his crippling addiction to human flesh. Like all walking corpses, he discovers that only a stiff drink can soothe his cravings. Unfortunately, finding liquor during Prohibition is costly and dangerous. From his Mason jar, the cantankerous Old Man rules the only speakeasy in the city that caters to the postmortem crowd.

As the booze, blood, and clues coagulate, Jones gets closer to discovering the identity of his killer and the secrets behind the city's stranglehold on liquid spirits. Death couldn't stop him, but if the liquor dries up, the entire city will be plunged into an orgy of cannibalism.

Cracking this case is a tall order. Braineater Jones won't get out alive, but if he plays his cards right, he might manage to salvage the last scraps of his humanity.

Mandy's Review:

This is a zombie book worth reading. Braineater Jones is set in the 1930s during Prohibition. The book is written in a journal-style with Jones being the author. It reads as a first-person narrative of his beginning days as a zombie. He can't remember his name, what he used to do, or how he wound up dead. He begins the journal as a way of maintaining his thoughts as he figures everything out. Oh, and Jones isn't really his last name. It's something he's using like "Smith" so he has a name to give people. And Braineater, well that's pretty obvious isn't it?

Anyhow, during his first few days in his unlife he walks into the Old Man's speakeasy and sees an unlive lady "crying" ... I say "crying" because all of the zombie's bodily fluids are dried up so she's going through the motions, but not producing any real tears. She's upset because someone stole her locket (which had a picture of her family in it) while she was dead. Jones makes it his mission to find out who took the locket and get it back for her. Even in death, Jones can't refuse a damsel in distress. This first mission begins his career as a detective-of-sorts, which he utilizes to solve his own murder.

If you're easily offended you may not want to read this novel. Mr. Kozeniewski maintained the authenticity of the 1930s in the writing of this novel. He does state in the book's foreword:

"I had a choice: either whitewash the past and somehow attempt to ignore every issue of gender, race, and sexuality relevant to that time period, or address them and try to do so in a way that was true to life ... Readers who are familiar with the literature of the 1930s, and the noir genre in particular, will hopefully be more accustomed to this sort of language and behavior, though, I hope, will never be desensitized to it."

He says more, but I believe that covers the gist of it. I happen to be one of the ones that takes into account the time period it's being written in and, thereby, do not take any offense. I would actually read this novel again. The author's ideas and writing style are just THAT good. Although a zombie, Braineater Jones is a likable character. If you're a fan of the noir genre, or zombies in particular, I'd recommend giving this novel a chance.

*An ecopy was provided by the publisher for the purposes of this blog tour and in exchange for an honest review.

Sunday, October 20, 2013

On August 4th, 1892, Andrew Jackson Borden and Abby Durfee Borden were brutally murdered with an old household hatchet. The blows of the murder weapon were so violent and numerous that their faces and skulls were unrecognizably disfigured. Although acquitted, it is common knowledge that the daughter, Lizzie Borden, is responsible for this savage evil act.

The present day Lizzie Allen suffers from an extreme case of childhood amnesia which not only lays dark her childhood memories but also her relationship, or lack thereof, of her parents themselves. When Lizzie discovers the news of her father's death, she inherits the house she once lived in and therefore a new place to live.

But as she begins to settle in, she starts to get a glimpse of her childhood memories along with clues as to what really happened in the Borden household in 1892. We follow Lizzie's journey as she attempts to distinguish between the two and strives to reach her own sanity and happiness while doing so.

Movie Trailer:

Mandy's Review:

I'm usually interested in any movie that's based on a true story and, with this movie being made in 2012, I thought that Lizzie would be decently made. I couldn't have been more wrong.

For those of you who don't know the story of Lizzie Borden, let me give you a little background.

Lizzie Borden was born on July 19, 1860 in Fall River, Massachusetts (the same town my mother-in-law is from ... coincidence?). Lizzie's mother died soon after she was born and Lizzie's father, Andrew, remarried Abby Durfee Gray. Lizzie lived with her father and step-mother on into adulthood. On August 4, 1892, Andrew and Abby Borden were found murdered in their home. Lizzie was arrested and tried for the axe murders. She was acquitted in 1893 and continued to live in Fall River until her death, on June 1, 1927. The case was never solved. To check out Lizzie's full biography, you can check out this website.

As I watched the movie I was hoping that Lizzie Allen would be a reincarnation of Lizzie Borden. I was hoping that the integration of past and present would be seamless and magical. I was sorely disappointed. The special effects were horrid. I watch a lot of Face Off (a SyFy series about movie makeup) and the newbies on that reality series could have done a better job on the actor's and actresses' faces in Lizzie. It was evident that the actress playing Lizzie Borden's mom was young and the makeup on her was supposed to make her look old, but the makeup made her look more like a Halloween character than an old lady.

The acting was just as bad as the movie makeup. The only actor I enjoyed was Corbin Bernsen (Psych, L.A. Law, and the Major League movies). Situations and actions performed by the actors and actresses did not always make sense. The movie was confusing and poorly executed. I would not recommend anyone watch this movie. It's bad enough that I've wasted almost two hours of my life watching it for this review.

For a select few people, friendship lasts forever. Nicky Fusco and Frankie Donovan were friends like that, but that was years ago. Now Frankie's a detective in Brooklyn's Homicide department, and Nicky is a reformed hit man. But when Frankie gets in trouble - and the law can't help him - he turns to Nicky.

The problem is that Nicky promised his family, and God, that he'd go straight.

Mandy's Review:

Murder Has Consequences is the second book in Giacomo Giammatteo's Friendship & Honor series. The first book, Murder Takes Time, focuses on Frankie as well, but it also included his other two friends. Frankie is a detective who is often torn between his dedication with the department and his loyalty to his childhood friends, who have grown up on the other side of the law. Unfortunately, one of Frankie's friends died in the first book which allows the author to focus on Frankie and Nicky in Murder Has Consequences.

Frankie has to leave Brooklyn to go home to Wilmington, Delaware to help bury his father. While there he reunites with Nicky, who isn't liked by Frankie's brother-in-law because Nicky killed him when they were younger. All Frankie wants is a little show of respect from those who've attended his father's wake and funeral. Later that night, Frankie and Bobby get into a fight at a local bar. When Bobby is found dead the next morning, Frankie is at the top of the suspect's list and is advised to not leave town. Fortunately, Frankie's boss needs him back in Brooklyn since there is a serial killer on the loose. Before Frankie leaves Wilmington, he asks Nicky to act like a detective and help clear his name of Bobby's murder.

Nicky is torn. His nature is to be the tough, take-no-prisoners, hitman, but he's trying his best to be good for his wife, Angie, and his daughter, Rosa. When Frankie asks him to play detective, it makes Nicky feel good to be needed for something purposeful that won't land him in jail.

Can Nicky and Frankie work together fast enough to clear Frankie's name?

Giacomo Giammatteo is an excellent author. He has a way of taken somewhat unsavory characters and making you feel empathy for them. Normally, I root for the unfailingly good guys, but with this series I'm totally rooting for Nicky when he has to beat someone up or "teach them a lesson."

If you're looking for a well-developed mystery series from a new author you may not have heard of before, I highly recommend the Friendship & Honor series.

*A physical copy was provided by the author in exchange for the purposes of this tour and for an honest review.

Friday, October 18, 2013

Okay, peeps, here's a quick recap before I get into this week's episodic review (taken from Wikipedia):

In the 1830s, Delphine LaLaurie (Kathy Bates) struggles to maintain her place in society, while secretly holding her slaves as prisoners in the attic. In present day, Cordelia Foxx (Sarah Paulson) operates a private school to teach young witches how to survive in the modern world. Cordelia's mother, Fiona Goode (Jessica Lange), arrives to ensure their protection.

Now, for this week's review:

This show is getting better and better by the week. Granted, it's only two weeks in but I can tell this may top the first season in awesomeness.

Zoe and Madison go to the local morgue where Kyle (Zoe's love interest and Madison's avenger of justice) is laying on a table in pieces from the bus crash caused by Madison that killed him and most of his frat brothers. Madison stole a Resurrection spell from Cordelia and is going to use it to bring Kyle back to life as repayment for Zoe killing the main frat boy who started the gang rape on Madison. First, though, they find the best boy parts from all the dismembered frat boys and sew them together with Kyle's head at the top. The Resurrection spell works, but not in a way Zoe thought it would. Fortunately, one of the witches who died in the last century has awakened and "fixes" Kyle with her power of resurgence.

Cordelia's past, at least I think it was her past, comes to the viewers in glimpses in this episode. We saw how she tried to have a baby with her husband using black magic. It didn't show the results of that unholy union, but I think we'll see how it turned out in the next episode or two.

We also saw how Queenie came to be at the witches school. She was the manager of a chicken restaurant (think of it as something similar to Church's Chicken or KFC). There was a patron who was pissed because he only had seven pieces of chicken in what was supposed to be an eight-piece bucket. Queenie packed the bucket herself and was adamant that she put eight pieces in the bucket. She then proceeded to tell him that she knew he ate the eighth piece and was just trying to get an extra piece of chicken for free. The patron then proceeds to insult Queenie and asking for the manager. Queenie tells him she is the manager and then proceeds to stick her arm into a fryer of hot grease. As the human voodoo doll, Queenie sticking her arm in the grease caused the same arm on the patron to feel as if it had hot grease poured on it causing it to bubble up with burns. The story made the papers which allowed Cordelia to find Queenie and bring her to New Orleans.

I think my favorite character, though, is Fiona played by Jessica Lange. Ms. Lange has now played in all three American Horror Story seasons and this role is by far her best. She is such a bad ass in this season that I love her. She makes Fiona's powers seem effortless, which I guess she needs to since Fiona is the Supreme witch. Fiona is able to convince the detectives that Zoe and Madison has no connection to the frat boys' deaths and to turn over all evidence they have against Zoe and Madison to her. She also asserts her dominance over Madame LaLaurie and initiates contact with Marie Laveau. I sense a clash of two great actresses coming together this season between Jessica Lange and Angela Bassett and I am excited! I cannot wait for next week's episode!!!

We're now more than halfway thru October and the 31 Days of Halloween event. Let's keep it going with another question for the Book Blogger Hop: Halloween Edition, hosted by Billy from Ramblings of a Coffee Addicted Writer.

This week's question:

Norman Bates VS Hannibal Lecter: Which one of these famous book murderers is scarier?

Optional Question:

Who is your favorite book villain?

Mandy's Response:

I'm going to respond to the first question. I find Hannibal Lecter to be the scarier famous book murderer. It's his intellectualism and the way he gets into a person's mind that's the scary part. Norman Bates just murdered people. Sure he heard his dead mother's voice, but Hannibal Lecter is manipulative and charismatic, a dangerous combination.

Kathy's Response:

Hannibal Lecter for sure. Norman just had mommy issues ... Hannibal was a true psychopath.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

As another year draws to a close in Willow Ridge, life seems to be changing for everyone but Rhoda Lantz. Her widowed mother is about to remarry, her sister is a busy newlywed, and soon Rhoda will be alone in her cozy apartment above the blacksmith's shop. An ad posted by an Englischer looking for someone to help with his mother and children may offer just the companionship she's looking for, but if she falls for the caring single father, she may risk being shunned by her community. Certain she can only wish for things she cannot have, Rhoda must remember that all things are possible with God, and nothing is stronger than the power of love.

Mandy's Review:

Rhoda is one of three Lantz sisters. Rachel is the recently married who is traveling around with her husband collecting wedding presents from various family members. Rebecca was raised English after being swept down a river as a baby and found by a couple along the riverbank. Rhoda and Rachel, who thought they were twins, were united with Rebecca not too long ago, their triplet. Rhoda is the only one of three who is unsatisfied with her life and is yearning for something more, someplace where she feels needed. When she sees the ad for help in the local store, Rhoda wonders if it may be an answer from God. As she responds to the ad and begins working for the family, Rhoda begins to have feelings for the single, divorced, father. She is fighting a constant battle between her head and her heart because she doesn't want to leave the Amish faith yet she's unable to stop her feelings for Andy from growing.

Andy is in his final moths of becoming a nurse. His life is hectic and there's no way he can continue trying to be there for his mother, who has recently had a stroke, and his two children. The house stays a mess and frozen dinners are commonplace. When Rhoda steps in and takes over, Andy knows her being there is a Godsend. Rhoda's able to patiently get his children to mind, not to mention clean up, and help his mother, Betty, become more involved in the family's day-to-day life. Andy doesn't know what he'd do without her and considers becoming Amish so he can make Rhoda's place in his life a more permanent one.

Winter of Wishes is another wonderfully-written book. Every time I read a novel by Charlotte Hubbard (or Naomi King) I always yearn to be Amish, to get rid of all my electronic gadgets and just go live in an Amish community where things are simpler. Of course, then how would I be able to review books for you lovely people? I always become immersed in Ms. Hubbard's stories and I feel like I know the people of Willow Ridge. I cannot tell you how happy I was over a particular Bishop leaving the community ... although the circumstances of his leaving weren't very happy ones.

When I read this author's stories, I feel the characters' emotions and their pain or happiness. Not many authors can transport me so completely into a story. I feel sad when the books end because I feel as if I'm leaving my friends behind. If you're a fan of Christian fiction, then I would highly recommend anything written by Charlotte Hubbard and/or Naomi King.

*A physical copy of this book was provided by the author in exchange for the purposes of this tour and for an honest review.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Haunted Castles is the definitive, complete collection of Ray Russell's masterful Gothic horror stories, including the famously terrifying novella trio of "Sardonicus," "Sanguinarius," and "Sagittarius." The characters that sprawl through Haunted Castles are frightful to the core: the heartless monster holding two lovers in limbo; the beautiful dame journeying down a damned road toward depravity (with the help of an evil gypsy); the man who must wear his fatal crimes on his face in the form of an awful smile. Engrossing, grotesque, perverted, and completely entrancing, Russell's Gothic tales are the best kind of dreadful.

Giveaway Info:

Filmmaker and longtime horror literature fan Guillermo del Toro serves as the curator for the Penguin Horror series, a new collection of classic tales and poems by masters of the genre. Included is one of del Toro's favorites, Haunted Castles by Ray Russell. Featuring original cover art by Penguin Art Director Paul Buckley, this stunningly creepy deluxe hardcover will be a perfect addition to the shelves of horror, sci-fi, fantasy, and paranormal aficionados everywhere ...

AND YOU HAVE A CHANCE TO WIN A COPY

... thanks to the wonderful people of Penguin!

This giveaway is open internationally. You can enter the form below to enter for your chance to win a copy. This giveaway will remain open until 10/23 at 11:59 p.m. The winner will be randomly chosen and contacted on 10/24. The winner will have 48 hours to respond. If the winner does not respond within 48 hours, another winner will be chosen in their place.

The next Penguin Horror Classics giveaway will take place on 10/22. Good luck!!!

I've called Missouri home for most of my life, and most folks don't realize that several Old Order Amish and Mennonite communities make their home here, as well. The rolling pastureland, woods, and small towns along county highways make a wonderful setting for Plain populations - and for stories about them, too! While Jamesport, Missouri is the largest Old Order Amish settlement west of the Mississippi River, other communities have also found the affordable farm land ideal for raising crops, livestock, and running the small family-owned businesses that support their families.

Like my heroine, Miriam Lantz, of my Seasons of the Heart series, I love to feed people - to share my hearth and home. I bake bread and goodies and I love to try new recipes. I put up jars and jars of green beans, tomatoes, beets and other veggies every summer. All my adult life, I've been a deacon, a dedicated church musician and choir member, and we hosted a potluck group in our home for more than twenty years.

Like Abby Lambright, heroine of my Home at Cedar Creek series, I consider it a personal mission to be a listener and a peacemaker - to heal broken hearts and wounded souls. Faith and family, farming and frugality matter to me: like Abby, I sew and enjoy fabric arts - I made my wedding dress and the one Mom wore, too, when I married into an Iowa farm and family more than thirty-five years ago! When I'm not writing, I crochet and sew, and I love to travel.

I recently moved to Minnesota when my husband got a wonderful new job, so now he and I and our border collie, Ramona, are exploring our new state and making new friends.

"The Christmas Visitors”: For spirited Martha Coblentz and her twin Mary, the snow has delivered the perfect holiday and birthday present to their door—handsome brothers Nate and Bram Kanagy. But when unforeseen trouble interrupts their season’s good cheer, it will take unexpected intervention—and sudden understanding—to give all four the blessing of a lifetime.

“Kissing the Bishop”: As the New Year’s first snow settles, Nazareth Hooley and her sister Jerusalem are given a heaven-sent chance to help newly widowed Tom Hostetler tend his home. But when her hope that she and Tom can build on the caring between them seems a dream forever out of reach, Nazareth discovers that faith and love can make any miracle possible.

Excerpt:

Kissing the Bishop

By

Charlotte Hubbard

Tom Hostetler opened his mailbox out by the snow-packed road and removed a handful of envelopes. A quick glance revealed a few pieces of junk mail and a letter from an attorney whose name he didn’t recognize before the clip-clop! clip-clop! of an approaching buggy made him look up.

“Morning to you, Tom. And Happy New Year,” Jeremiah Shetler called out as he pulled his Belgian to a halt. “Enos isn’t far behind me. Saw him coming up the highway from the other direction as I turned down your road.”

“Glad to see you fellows, too,” Tom replied as he stepped up into the carriage with the bishop from Morning Star. “Who could’ve guessed Hiram would disrupt Miriam and Ben’s wedding? He’s set Willow Ridge on its ear—not to mention throwin’ my life into a tailspin—now that we’ve excommunicated him.”

“Never seen the likes of it,” Jeremiah agreed. He drove down the snowy lane past Tom’s house to park beside the barn. “I still feel God’s will was done, though. Hiram brought this whole thing on himself when he didn’t make his confession. The rumors are flying about that town he’s starting up, too. What’s he calling it?”

“Higher Ground,” Tom replied with a snort. “But we’re pretty sure he’s got the lowest of intentions, after his dubious ways of raisin’ the money for it. A real sorry situation, this is.” He looked up to see Enos Mullet, the bishop from New Haven, turning his buggy down the lane. “Vernon Gingerich is drivin’ in from Cedar Creek, too.”

“The four of us will figure things out. Wherever two or more gather in the Lord’s name, He’ll be present.” Jeremiah gazed steadily at him as they paused in the dimness of the barn. “I’ve prayed over this a lot, Tom, and I believe God’s ushering in a new Heaven and a new Earth here in Willow Ridge. And He’s prepared you to handle whatever comes along, my friend.”

Tom raised his eyebrows. As one of the two preachers for the Willow Ridge district, he was a candidate to become its next bishop . . . a huge responsibility for a man who milked a dairy herd twice a day. “Hope you’re right, Jeremiah. A lot of fine folks are dependin’ on what we decide today.”

Tom walked out of the stable, noting the gray clouds that gathered in the distance. When the approaching buggy stopped, the man who stepped down from it looked pale. Enos Mullet seemed to get thinner every time Tom saw him, too, what with taking chemo treatments after a nasty bout of cancer. “Enos, it’s gut of ya to come ,” he said as shook the bishop’s bony hand. “You fellas will be glad to hear the Hooley sisters have been helpin’ me get ready for ya. The kitchen smells like they’re cookin’ up something mighty gut for our dinner.”

“That they are.” Tom smiled to himself as they led Enos’s Morgan into a stall. He didn’t let on to folks, but Nazareth Hooley had been a lot of company to him this winter, and it was too bad she couldn’t become more than his friend. His wife Lettie had divorced him last Spring, and Old Order Amish couldn’t remarry until their former spouses passed on.

But his spirits lightened as they stepped into a kitchen filled with the aromas of the fresh pastries and cookies Nazareth and Jerusalem had baked early this morning. As Jeremiah and Enos greeted the sisters and accepted hot coffee and treats, Tom was glad he’d asked them to hostess for him today.

“Here comes Vernon,” he said, pointing toward the road out front. “And would ya look at that sleigh he’s drivin’, too! You fellows make yourselves comfortable in the front room, and we’ll be right in.”

What was it about a sleigh that made him feel like a kid again? Tom hurried outside again, delighting in the merry jingle of the harness bells and the proud way Vernon’s Percheron pulled the vehicle.

“Whoa there, Samson,” the bishop called out. “And gut morning to you, Tom! I’ve had a fine ride, even if those clouds make me think more snow’s on the way.”

“Jah, I’m glad you’ve come to visit for a day or so. We’ll get right to our business so the other two fellows can be safe on the roads.” Tom stroked the horse’s black neck, grinning. “This looks to be a fine old sleigh, Vernon. Brings to mind the one my dat got from his dat, back when we kids prayed for snow so we could ride in it.”

“This one’s of the same vintage. And thanks to our James Graber’s way with restoring old vehicles, it’s a beauty again.” Vernon patted the deep maroon velvet that covered the high-backed seat. “Three of the best pleasures in this life are spirited horses, fine rigs, and a gut woman—not necessarily in that order. Guess I’ll be happy with having two of the three.”

Tom laughed. “Jah, that’s how we have to look at it sometimes.”

As they stabled Samson and then entered the warm kitchen, Tom felt better about their morning’s mission: Vernon Gingerich was known for his down-to-earth faith and simple wisdom, and his sense of humor made even the most difficult tasks easier to accomplish.

“My stars, I must’ve stepped into Heaven,” the bishop from Cedar Creek said as he inhaled appreciatively. “Don’t tell me you baked the goodies on this sideboard, Tom!”

“The credit for that goes to Nazareth and Jerusalem Hooley,” Tom replied as he gestured to each of the women. “Two more generous, kind-hearted gals you’ll never find, Vernon.”

As the women greeted their final guest, Jeremiah and Enos replenished their plates and made Vernon welcome, as well. It did Tom’s heart good to hear these voices filling his kitchen, to feel the presence of friends who would put their faith and best intentions to work today in behalf of Willow Ridge. Living alone this past year had taught him to appreciate the company of those who had seen him through some rough months.

As Vernon chose from the array of treats, Tom closed his eyes over a pastry twist that oozed butterscotch filling onto his tongue. When he looked up again, Nazareth was beaming at him, pouring him a mug of coffee. “It’s going to be a gut morning for all of us, Tom,” she assured him. “If you fellows need anything at all, we sisters’ll be right here in the kitchen.”

“Denki for all you’ve done,” he murmured. “Couldn’t ask for better help, or a better friend than you, Naz.”

Her sweet smile made Tom wish the snow would pile up around the doors so they couldn’t get out for days—after Enos and Jeremiah had gotten safely home, of course. But he set such wishful thinking aside and led the way into the front room. It was time to determine who would lead Willow Ridge into the New Year . . . into a future no one but God could foresee.

“Have you ever seen blue eyes that twinkle the way Vernon’s do, Sister?” Jerusalem whispered. She peered through the doorway at the four men who sat around the table where Tom usually carved and painted his Nativity sets—except she and Nazareth had cleared the wooden figures from it earlier today. Jerusalem ducked back into the kitchen when the white-bearded bishop from Cedar Creek smiled at her.

Nazareth laughed softly. “Seems like a nice fellow, Vernon does. A far cry from the sort of man Hiram Knepp turned out to be.”

“Jah, you’ve got that right. I’m thankful the gut Lord opened our eyes to his underhanded ways before I let myself get sucked in.” Jerusalem stirred some barley into the pot of vegetable beef soup on the stove. Truth be told, she had been attracted to Hiram Knepp from the moment she’d set foot in Willow Ridge last fall—and he had taken to her right off, too. But as time went by, she’d realized the bishop was more interested in having her keep track of his four younger children than he was in hitching up with an outspoken maidel who’d become set in her ways . . .

Is it too late for me, Lord? Jerusalem watched the emotions play across her sister’s face as she set places around the kitchen table: it was no secret that Nazareth and Preacher Tom were sweet on each other despite that fact that they couldn’t marry. Surely there must be a fellow who would appreciate her own talents for cooking and keeping up a home . . . a man who could tolerate her tendency to speak her mind and do things her way. Was it such a sin to be competent and efficient enough that she’d never needed a husband?

“What do you suppose they’ll decide on today?” Nazareth asked as she took six soup bowls from the cabinet. “What with Preacher Gabe havin’ poor Wilma to look after while he’s gettin’ so frail himself—”

“Jah, I thought it was the wise thing for him to tell Tom, right out, that he couldn’t handle bein’ the new bishop,” Jerusalem agreed. “That leaves Tom as the only real choice, because I can’t see folks wantin’ a totally new fella from someplace else to take over. Tom’s perfect for the job, too.”

Nazareth’s brows knit together. “It’s a lot to ask of a dairy farmer who’s got such a big herd to milk, especially since his kids all live at a distance and he’s got no wife. Some districts back East wouldn’t even consider a divorced man.”

“Everyone knows it’s not Tom’s doing that he’s alone.” Jerusalem held her sister’s gaze for a moment. “Not that he’s really by himself, what with you helpin’ him every chance you get.”

“Folks might frown on me spendin’ so much time here, after he’s ordained,” Nazareth replied in a shaky voice. “Bishops are expected to walk a higher path. Can’t appear to live outside the Ordnung—especially after the way Hiram went rotten on us.”

Jerusalem set down her long-handled spoon and placed her hands on her younger sister’s shoulders. Nazareth was slender and soft-spoken; had chosen a brilliant green cape dress that looked especially festive today. But her quivering chin told the real story, didn’t it? “So you’re worried that if Tom’s to be the new bishop, he’ll have to forget his feelings for you? I don’t see him doing that.”

“But—but we’re to devote ourselves to God first and foremost,” Nazareth reminded her. “No matter what Tom and I feel for each other, we’re to follow the Old Ways. I’d begun to believe that God had led me here from Lancaster to find him. . . to be his helpmate someday. But now—”

Chairs scooted against the floor in the front room. The men’s louder talk made Jerusalem embrace her sister quickly and then step away. “It’s in the Lord’s hands, Sister. Let’s not worry these molehills into mountains before we see what comes of today’s meeting.”

“Jah, you’re right.” Nazareth swiped at her eyes and began taking food from the fridge. “I’m just being a silly old maidel. Until we came to Missouri, I’d been so certain God meant for me to be a teacher rather than a wife, so maybe I’m just confused.”

Silly? Confused? Those were hardly words Jerusalem associated with her sweet, hard-working sister, but she certainly understood Nazareth’s sentiments. She, too, had spent her adult life believing she had a different mission from most Plain women. If Hiram hadn’t upset her emotional apple cart, why, she would still be staunchly convinced that teaching—and then coming to Willow Ridge with their three grown nephews—was what she was meant to do. Now she had a bee in her bonnet and she buzzed with a restlessness she didn’t know how to handle. And her longing wouldn’t disappear just because Hiram had.

As the four men entered the kitchen, however, Jerusalem set aside her worrisome thoughts. “You fellas ready for some dinner? It’s nothing fancy, but we thought soup and hot sandwiches would taste gut on a winter’s day.”

“The snow’s startin’ to blow, so we decided Enos and Jeremiah should be gettin’ on the road as soon as we eat,” Tom said. “We’ve pretty much settled our business for today.”

As the men took places around the table, Jerusalem opened the oven to remove the pan of open-faced ham and cheese sandwiches, which looked like little pizzas. She had picked right up on the fact that Tom hadn’t said Vernon was heading back. Although Cedar Creek was a lot farther away than Morning Star or New Haven, he wore an unruffled expression, as though driving home was the least of his concerns. Nazareth dipped up big bowls of the steaming soup, chockfull of vegetable chunks and beef, while Jerusalem set butter and jelly alongside a basket of fresh whole-wheat rolls.

“Looks like a feast,” Enos said in his raspy voice.

Jerusalem took the empty chair across from her sister, wishing she could feed that poor man enough to fill out all his hollows. They bowed in a silent prayer and then Tom passed the platter in front of him. “You fellas are gettin’ a real treat here,” he remarked. “Naz and Jerusalem made the cheese on these sandwiches from their goats’ milk.”

Vernon’s face lit up as he took two of them. “So those goats in the stable are yours? They seem right at home among the horses.”

“Oh, jah,” Jerusalem replied, “goats and horses are natural companions. We brought those four from Lancaster with us, well . . . as a gift to the bishop.” She paused, wishing she hadn’t gone down this conversational path. “But when we informed Hiram we wouldn’t be joining him in Higher Ground, we took them back.”

“And Preacher Tom’s been kind enough to let us keep them here,” Nazareth continued. “Our does will be havin’ kids this spring, and we couldn’t take the chance that they’d not be properly tended.”
Jeremiah helped himself to the hot sandwiches. “You folks are in the prayers of all the districts around you,” he said in a solemn voice. “Enos and I suspected, back when Hiram confessed to us about his car, that other issues might come to light someday. We can only trust that God has a reason for all the trouble Hiram’s caused.”

“We also believe, however, that Willow Ridge will be in capable, compassionate hands with Tom as its spiritual leader.” Vernon took a big bite of his open-faced sandwich and then closed his eyes. “My goodness, ladies, what a treat you’ve blessed us with today. I’m ready to buy myself a few goats so I can enjoy more of this marvelous cheese.”

Jerusalem’s heart fluttered. “Thank you, Vernon. It’s been our pleasure to provide you fellas a meal while you’ve been here on such important business.”

“So it’s settled then?” Nazareth asked. “Preacher Tom is to become the bishop?”

“It’s what our prayers and discussion have led us to, jah.” Jeremiah smiled at the man who sat at the table’s head. “What with you folks needing two new preachers now, we feel Tom will provide the continuity—the leadership and spiritual example—to bind up the wounds Hiram has inflicted. It’s not the usual falling of the lot, the way we Amish let God select our bishops, but in your case it’s the most practical solution.”

Jerusalem noted the way her sister nipped at her lower lip before biting into a roll she’d slathered with butter and jam. Well they knew the blessing Tom Hostetler had been to them and to this entire community, even if it meant Nazareth must put aside her hopes for romance. And while Tom’s expression suggested he had his share of doubts and questions about the role he would assume, he was accepting this new wagonload of responsibility as God’s will for his life.

Tom’s faith—his willingness to serve without complaint or question—will be an inspiration to us all, Jerusalem thought. Give me the grace to follow where You’re leading me, as well, Lord.

When Jerusalem looked up, Vernon Gingerich was studying her, and he didn’t lower his eyes for several seconds. It felt unseemly—downright brazen—to return his gaze, yet she indulged herself in this fascinating man’s silent attention anyway. Hadn’t Tom mentioned that the bishop of Cedar Creek was a widower?
The conversation continued along the lines of farming, shepherding of human flocks, and other topics of common interest as Jerusalem refilled soup bowls and Nazareth brought the goody trays to the table. What a blessing it was to be surrounded by the wisdom and experience these three bishops had brought with them . . . a balm to her soul, after the way Hiram had condemned them when they hadn’t followed him to Higher Ground. It was such a delight to watch the men devour the cookies they’d baked, too. All too soon they were scooting back from the table.

“Can we send goodies home with you fellas?” Jerusalem asked. “It’d be our pleasure, after the help you’ve given our district today.”

Jeremiah’s dark eyes flashed with pleasure. “Jah, I’ll take some! Not that I promise they’ll all make it to Morning Star.”

Enos laughed until his bony shoulders shook. “You’ve got a bottomless pit for a stomach, Jeremiah. These days nothin’ I eat seems to stick. But I’d be happy to relieve Tom of the burden of having to force the rest of them down.”

“None for me, thanks,” Vernon said as he slipped into his coat. “Tom invited me to stay over, and by the looks of those huge snowflakes he’s a pretty fine weather forecaster. I’ll be back in a few, so don’t put those cookies away yet.”

A schoolgirl’s grin overtook Jerusalem’s face. Vernon was staying over! And wasn’t that the best news she’d heard in a long, long while?